When the priest asks us to join hands, we do so willingly. His are warm and strong and firm around mine, and I take shelter in his touch. Even in the face of uncertainty over our future and what it may hold, I am comforted by the love I have for this man. It burns so deeply, I want to blurt the words out this very second, but there isn’t time.
The priest begins the vow ceremony, and we are asked to declare our intent. Alessio recites his vows first. His gaze intensifies as he declares to forsake all others, remain faithful in good times and bad, in sickness and health, until death do us part. It feels so real. It feels like at this moment he means every word. I know I mean them when I sign and mouth the words back to him.
Luca delivers the rings, and the priest proceeds with the ceremony, blessing us before he asks us to exchange bands. Alessio’s ring is a simple titanium band, and mine is a white gold halo diamond I chose from the selection his jeweler showed me. A surge of possession takes over me as I slip his onto his finger, and I am proud to wear the ring he carefully secures on mine. He holds my hand in his for a moment longer than necessary, his thumb brushing over the band. This moment is significant and not just for me. I can see it in his eyes. He’s equally tormented and terrified by the impact of the journey we’re embarking on together.
The priest directs us to kiss, and we both lean in, our lips soft against each other. It’s not like the kisses he steals in the night. It’s gentle yet possessive. He doesn’t pull away, and neither do I. We seem to have forgotten that we have an audience, and I think he’d be content to stand here all afternoon, drinking me in like he owns me. I’d be content with it too, but the priest clears his throat before declaring that it’s time to greet the witnesses.
I’m breathless when Alessio breaks away, staring at me like I’ve cursed him. I’ve seen that look before, and I know it usually precedes him pulling away. He’s afraid of whatever he’s feeling, and his reaction is to shut down. It’s what he always does, but right now, I need him to be present.
I squeeze his hand in mine, silently pleading with him before the men in cloaks come to greet us. To my relief, he doesn’t release me from his grip. The process is formal and efficient, each of them coming to offer their well wishes before stepping aside. I offer them a nervous acknowledgment and nothing else, aware that these same men will be there to witness what comes next. The one ritual Alessio was hesitant to inform me of.
After our last nuptial blessing from the priest, we are dismissed, and Luca whisks us away in the car to a high-rise building in Manhattan. There is no signage on the doors, and just inside, there are enough guards to take down a small army should the need arise. When they see Alessio, they bow their heads respectfully.
“Dominus et Deus, Mr. Scarcello.”
I glance at him, but he doesn’t say anything as he leads me to the elevator. Inside, we are both quiet, our hands still clutched as the carriage takes us to the top of the building. Alessio guides me out into the hall and then up a staircase that opens onto the rooftop.
The space looks like something out of a fairytale. There are cobblestone pavers weaving through lush foliage and ornate bubbling fountains. Gas lamps cast a soft glow over the pathways that open up to private seating areas. At the center of it all is a marble pavilion with a stone fire pit burning inside. That’s where most of the cloaked men are gathered, waiting for us.
My eyes move to the solitary chair and table in front of the pavilion. Everything has already been set up for the ritual. Not only does every Society member have an inked inscription of IVI on their skin, but the wives are marked in an additional way. It’s designed to be a testament of loyalty to your husband. And tonight, I will have my choice of a brand or a tattoo of Alessio’s family crest on the nape of my neck just below the IVI lettering.
At first, I will admit I was reluctant to agree to such a ceremony. For years, I’ve bore the permanent marks of another man’s hate. I’ve despised them. Revolted at them when I looked in the mirror. But when I talked it over with Abella, she helped me see the ritual from a different perspective. It’s not just a brand. It’s a permanent mark of our love. The more I considered the idea, the more I liked it. Alessio’s mark on me won’t be the same as the man who tried to kill me. His will be designed to show the world I belong to him and him alone. It’s possessive, hot, and maybe a little demented, but I’ve decided I’m okay with that. I delivered my decision to him freely, without pressure or coercion.